


Poetry, Prompts, Princes

by PrinxOfTheFlamingHeart



Category: The Two Princes (Podcast)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:53:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25372681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinxOfTheFlamingHeart/pseuds/PrinxOfTheFlamingHeart
Summary: A collection of Inktober 2019 poems and short stories I wrote for The Two Princes Podcast
Kudos: 13





	1. Poetry

**Dragon Haikus**

🐲  
No mindless monster  
I was not born of a curse  
My mothers are Kings  
🤴🏼🤴🏾  
Mindless violence  
Like that which made the land cry  
Foolish human war  
⚔️  
My mothers once fought  
A fight their fathers started  
They ended with love  
❣️  
Daisy patch good place  
I sleep well in the flowers  
Much better than thorns  
🌼  
Dogs are strange creatures  
My brother is too noisy  
He knows good nap spots  
🐶

**Thoughts on the Curse (Inktober Day 3: Bait)**

Did the Forest intend us to swallow the bait?  
Was the prophecy’s warning delib’rately vague  
Or were we as humans blinded by our hate,  
Until even the earth cared no more for us?  
One would find the thought galling, a terrible weight,  
That two kingdoms, two kings could lead all to doom  
The ground in our blood we did saturate  
The Forest’s anger o’erwhelming, like a most viral plague  
Until love broke the curse, made the Forest sedate

 **What can you build?**  
Eastern Bastard King POV

I have built my strength, muscle abounds  
My mind’s a machine intent on one thing  
I have built armories, stores of weapons around  
My armies are well trained, death they will bring  
I have built great siege towers, ballista and more  
My strategies flexible as a trap to ensnare  
I have built all intending to wage a final war  
My sword is all I show to my foes of my ‘care’  
What can you build? What can you build?  
When love is a weakness of women and fools  
What can you build? What can you build?  
When hatred made a forest into my greatest tool!  
My victory’s sure, I can count on my son  
Despite his mother demure, he’ll be the last one

**Chamberlain in a Sonnet**

I think to call me frail belies my strength  
Of which beneath these brittle bones endures  
Within my heart my mind recalls at length  
My strongest moments which I think assures  
(In spite of loss of mem’ry, self, and name)  
I can recount the love that brought me here  
Though I could not pursue in fear of shame  
I dared in quiet moments to shun fear.  
This wisdom learned in places meant to hide  
Beneath the notice of the common folk  
Is where my greatest happiness resides  
Though bach’lorhood unending was a joke  
I ache to see two Princes wed, ‘‘tis true  
Because I want a prince of my own too

**If You’d Swing My Way**

**Or: Poem for an Actor**

My love is an actor, who commands on the stage  
The most rapt attention of all those who can see  
His profile elegant, voice demands in its rage  
Soliloquies, patter, all pure excellency  
But he’s daft as a hare, his art his only thing  
With such strange-mindedness, who knows how he’ll swing

 **Holding Pattern**  
Rupert’s favorite thing about Amir

At the end of a long day I find his open arms  
With his loving touch all of my stress falls away  
This calming influence, a constant flowing source  
How this habit began I leave just to his charms  
He reads me like a book, his favorite he’d say  
In this arms in our home he’s like gravity’s force  
And I, drawn around him as the moon that turns  
Would scarcely give up on our holding patterns.

**Amir’s First Snow-In**

With my precious love in snow  
Piled to the roof, we can’t go  
Our small home we ought to know  
Surprises abound and so  
We huddle close arms we throw  
Around each other and lo!  
The rest of the world slips by  
He’s my sun, stars, sky, aglow  


** Ode to a Dragon **

Though blunder brought our two Princes your way  
And in the nick of time your egg did hatch  
In wonder and in awe Rupert did say  
That they were now your parents a great catch  
In finding two future kings to be mother  
In helping them to grow more closely still  
Encouraging one to open, one to grow  
To be as kind to self as one another  
Glorious chivalry and honor show until  
They faced each other fully in dread hollow  
Yet in their relationship to you  
These two true princes proved beyond a doubt  
That they were capable of loving true  
Once all their fears were finally let out  
They may have left you briefly as you slept  
Intent on only one leaving that foul place  
But they could no longer each other kill  
Standing down, a prince would accept  
The hon’rable thief and prince his lies would face  
Through mud and waterfall, through thorn and thrill  
While monstrous your kind is known within both lands  
Anything but monstrous you may be  
Raised by two Princes from their own hands  
You are at least to them a good baby  
No lust for gold or destruction do you seek  
No contention or dissent would you allow  
Your mothers worried for your sake did weep  
When forest curse a greater change did wreak  
Returning natural forms from evil now  
No curse made you, in daisies you did sleep

 **The last thing to burn**  
Atossa’s POV

For years I built The Phoenix,  
A vessel meant for peace  
I took care to raise my child  
As a beacon for the East  
Great pains were undertaken  
Greater costs were accrued  
To ensure the better natures  
Overpowered all the crude  
Your empire is being conquered  
Vines and trees lay all to waste  
Your curse won’t be denied  
My son will break it in great haste  
I fear death is what the forest wants  
Royal blood must it be spilled?  
After years of pointless wars  
Must a prince now too be killed?  
A poison powerful I bring  
On wings controlled by girls  
Their bravery encourages me  
Although my head still whirls  
And what would the forest set on us?  
A beast of fire and ash  
My peaceful vessel, war and poison brings  
Before a dragon makes us crash  
Was this what it felt like for you  
When loyal hearts lay down their lives?  
These women could be anything  
Instead they’re warriors, not wives  
A heavy weight upon my head  
This crown you gave to me  
Heavier still upon my heart  
What in the Hollow will I see?  
What would you expect from me  
A silly girl with eyes that yearn?  
You waged nothing more than cruelty  
You’ll be the last thing to burn  
Rest Phoenix now, rest easily, that King shall not return.

** Barabbas the Wild **  
**Or: How Fortune Favors The Meek**

I was a sweet and sensitive little lad  
Although I grew up with less than others had  
There was less than for Barabbas the Child  
Than even now there be for Barabbas the Wild  
For a disastrous play I was exiled  
Although all truth be told, the charges filed  
Were in excess of what in truth occurred  
Though in my defense no one would speak a word  
There was a servant then a chamberlain  
Whose counsel and wisdom excelled Merlin  
He warned against my free speech it is true  
But I was bold and knew what I must do  
Our Western lands were given once to lies  
About exceptionalities, surprise  
That we exceeded our Eastern counterparts  
And so deserved their treasures for a start  
When Western Queen once more gave way to hide  
To keep the truth away from her son’s side  
I staged a play, the thing to catch the queen  
And guide her and her son from faltering  
This play received less than fav’rable reviews  
And in our quick construction more bad news  
For the bleachers we constructed fell to bits  
And took out fifty souls in one fell blitz  
For speaking truth to power, and those deaths  
In my own kingdom I drew my last breaths  
And in forbidden forest I so found  
Cutthroats, crazy curs and monsters around  
I played my part admirably it’s plain  
Two associates, allies I gained  
And with our foul business we survived  
On ransoms, thefts, and murder we, well, thrived  
Then two princes came across our way  
Their faces bright with young love plain as day  
And so to their lies I did commence  
To play my sympathies in their defense  
They tricked us fair and square in cursed woods  
A willing robbery, our weapons, goods  
And so I sighed relief that my two “friends”  
Would for a time be harmless once again  
When Forbidden Forest once more turned to fair  
Our lives, once forfeit, now were gladly spared  
No spiders, evil plants, or storms to rage  
The bars were once more lifted from our cage  
Could I find my love again would he remember?  
Though we both are quite well in Life’s December  
If to the Western Queen I could apply  
I’d be acquitted then, or I would die  
And so my fate I leave in royal hands  
My life, service, and breath at their commands  
Perhaps I’ll get to speak once more to him  
Just one last time, at their Majesty’s whim  
I’d tell him he was right, and I was wrong  
I’d play for him once more our lover’s song  
My last words would of love be so entranced  
My exit would be blissful at a glance  
Dear Chamberlain, I hope that I can stay  
And in your arms my fears once more allay  
But if this wretched world sends me off stage  
Then I wish you love, anew e’en at our age.

 **Lady Ornamental**  
Lady Cecily reflects on all she thought she could be and who she’s become now.

Like when I think on the girl I was  
Totally pretty and single minded  
That kinda girl who dreams of marriage  
I like absolutely have changed ‘cuz  
I am a warrior as Joan has reminded  
The kinda girl with a weapon in carriage  
Both kinda girls were fine by me  
But being a warrior makes me happy  
I’ve worn fancy skirts and jaw dropping dresses  
I’ve sharpened my sword and restrung my bow  
I’ve danced with a prince and with a sword  
I can look ornamental, my hair in tresses  
I can look monumental, my sword in tow  
I can look a bit silly when I mishear a word  
I’m often taken for granted underestimated  
Those who make that mistake are soon frustrated.  
I’m sharper than I look, more determined than ever  
I’ve found my purpose and I’ve begun to feel  
The feelings I did when chasing sweet Rupie  
But how does one court a knight? A trying endeavor  
When words and thoughts fail and steel meets steel  
Watching their movements makes my mind, like, droopy  
If thoughts & words frozen won’t give way to action  
How ever will I know that sweet satisfaction?


	2. Plain Gold Ring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rupert considers what kind of ring he’ll wear once he and Amir are married.

“Why do you even have dad’s ring?” Rupert asked, aghast at the gaudy piece of jewelry in his palm.

Lavinia shrugged. “He didn’t wear it much, Rupert.”

Rupert drew his own conclusions about why his father wouldn’t wear his ring. As king of the west it would’ve been likely impossible for anyone to mistake him for a nobody, except maybe the spectacularly unobservant. So it had to be a game. A disgusting thought to Rupert’s way of thinking.

“So why didn’t you melt it down?” Rupert asked, holding the ring out to return it to his mother.

Lavinia turned away, ignoring the ring. “Before he became obsessed with conquest...back when the war was just a happy pipe dream...”

“Happy pipe dream?” Rupert repeated, looking down at the ring as if it were something pulled from a chamber pot.

Lavinia turned back around and shrugged. “It was a different time. War was all glory and heroes and righteousness. Before all the bloodshed and horror and loss. Your father wasn’t always so consumed by it all to the point you saw. There was room in his life for other things. So I look at that silly hunk of ring and remember all the promises and laughter. Of the night of seemingly endless pleasure that eventually resulted in the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Rupert tossed the ring on the bed and held his hand away from himself. “Okay mom, too much information. Eww. I don’t even wanna think about what an endless night of pleasure results in.”

Lavinia rolled her eyes and crossed to pick up the ring. “The result? The best thing that ever happened to me? It was you, you oversensitive...” She reached out to put the ring back in his hand but stopped. “Simple. You’re right. This ring is traditional in all the wrong ways, I guess. I just let a few happy memories get in the way of seeing what you must see. Everything your father became; overblown, gaudy, and outdated? Well, this silly ring is all that. So, maybe you’d prefer mine?”

“Mom, I’ve never seen you wear a ring,” Rupert said.

“Well, I wasn’t going to if your father wouldn’t!” Lavinia went to the bedside drawer and retrieved her wedding ring. It was a plain gold ring. Perhaps the most un-Lavinia-like thing he’d ever seen.

Rupert held the ring, turning it around in his fingers. The inside of the band was a stark contrast, it was etched with flowers, the biggest of which held a diamond. Among the roots, Rupert could make out an inscription. “Love is a seed.”

Lavinia took the ring from his fingers and slipped it onto his hand. “It’s been passed down through my father’s family. He never had sons, so he gave it to me for my wedding. Your father never liked it.”

Rupert could just barely feel the stone set inside the ring against his skin. He’d assumed that the inside etching would be distracting and uncomfortable, but it was smooth. “I love it. It seems simple on the outside but the inside is beautiful! And I can’t even feel it.”

“Yeah, careful with that,” Lavinia cautioned. “It’s how I lost it the first time. Found it a week later between the headboard and the wall.”

“Why would it be...” Rupert looked up to see his mother shaking her head. “Never mind. I don’t want to know.”


	3. Time Is Frozen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Amir looks at Rupert...

There is beauty in both halves of the kingdom. In the east there are amazing works of art and marvelous architecture. In the west there are ear-catching songs and lively dances. Easterners enjoy long impassioned monologues. Westerners love a well performed play.

Both sides know war. They know how to hone a blade, don a suit of armor, saddle a warhorse, and excel in the shedding of blood. When an easterner sees the dust billowing in the distance they fear another attack. When a westerner hears their dogs baying in the yard they fear the same. Eighteen years of uneasy peace haven’t dulled this instinct.

Peace and war. Beauty and blood. Love and hate. Can one side ever truly, completely win? Is it any more foolish to try and destroy your enemy completely or to try and unite two vastly different groups of people?

In this conflict of ideas, in between the negotiations and restructuring, the world seems to spin around me more quickly than a top. Watching our Castle of the Heartland grow, seemingly as quickly as a storm on the horizon, makes my head hurt and my heart tight. Are we ready? Can this work?

But there is magic here, as powerful as anything the forest ever produced. When I see a dragon play with a dog. In the places where women and men train together as warriors. With two royal mothers bicker and then smile at each other. And in the face of a prince I love.

Time tends to freeze. In moments of tender affection, a squeeze on my shoulder, a hand in my hand. When my Rupert laughs freely at something I’ve said. Sharing a meal under the shade of a tree, recounting the events of our mornings. Feeling his heartbeat against my own as we embrace.

Time suddenly freezes. The clock becomes a blank face. Sun, moon and stars halt their progress. Everything that troubles me melts away. Our love is at moments fiery and passionate but most often it is constant and comforting.

“What are you thinking about?” Rupert asks as I realize with a jolt that I’ve been staring at him for untold minutes.

I open my mouth but how can I distill it all down in words? Can I just tell him everything I feel about him without making both of us cry? “I love you,” I say simply. Those three words aren’t nearly enough, but somehow Rupert seems to hear the multitude of thoughts behind them.

Rupert gazes back at me, our eyes locked on each other. For me, the world around us fades. The sunlight filtering through the branches of the trees that once were forbidden adds to the dreamlike quality of the moment.

Rupert is better with words, at times, than I am. He grabs my hand and holds it against his chest. I feel that familiar beating as he wraps his arms around my neck and pulls me in for a kiss. As we separate, he somehow finds his words, where I am speechless. “My heart belongs to you, from the moment we met through the moment you said you loved me. Whatever we have is because you love me.”

I shake my head. “Whatever we have is because you had the courage to give me your heart. You would have given up your life and all you wanted to say before you died was that you loved me. You had more courage in that moment than I had in my entire life.”

A groan behind us brings time back into motion. Lady Cecily laughs as we both snap our heads at Sir Joan. Neither of them look the least apologetic. “Uh, Joan, we were kinda having a moment?”

Joan remains unmoved. “Uh, Your Highnesses? We’re losing daylight if you want to make it back to the castle tonight.”

Lady Cecily’s snickers cease long enough for her to add, “Yeah, save it for when you get back to your rooms!”

I roll my eyes and wrap my arms around Rupert until I can feel his heartbeat against my chest. Rupert’s lips are on mine in a flash and we both pointedly ignore the women’s groans. Time can wait.

For just a moment, time is frozen again.


	4. Granola the "Husky"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cecily gets a pet

For all that the average person thought that Lady Cecily was an airhead, the real Lady Cecily was methodical. The Formerly Forbidden Forest still held danger, after all. Nowadays the danger was less magical talking plants and more bears, mountain lions and the occasional brush fire. So Cecily didn’t immediately run to the poor puppy in the clearing. Wild dogs were definitely a thing.

From her perch in the tree, Cecily worried. The pup was noisy. It was also thin; she wondered when it had last been fed. She could see the den under the tree roots where its mother must’ve nested. When it wasn’t howling, it bit at the long grass irritably. After an hour, the winds shifted and Cecily caught a scent she hadn’t before.

It was a rotten smell.

Her heart sank and she looked at the likely source. Cautiously, she slipped from her perch and over to the den. The smell only got stronger. Moving a few roots, Cecily confirmed her suspicions. She took hold of the arrow she found and tried not to think about anything as she pulled it out. The fletching on the end told her what she wanted to know. Some wall guard had taken shot at a wild dog. What was left of the pup’s mother wasn’t easy to identify. Cecily felt her anger rise, but a cry from behind her followed by some insistent tugging at her belt caught her attention.

The pup had taken hold of her belt pouch in its mouth. Cecily laughed as the awkward angle prevented her from getting the pup off her pouch. Her laughter faded as she heard the familiar sound of fabric tearing. The unexpected noise startled her into standing up, lifting the pup off the ground for a second before the pouch fully gave way. She heard her pouch emptying.

Turning around, Cecily wanted to be cross. Her heart melted at the sight of the puppy eating the granola she’d had in the pouch. “Well there goes my snack, but I guess you needed it more than me.”

The puppy was too busy eating to pay her any mind. Cecily crouched and reached out to pet the little canine. “Luckily I don’t like raisins. That’s about as safe and plain as granola can get there. You can thank Joan for that though. I do like mine sweetened with some honey. But that doesn’t travel well.” It continued eating as she scratched its forehead and ears.

When it finished, it seemed to appreciate the attention. Noticing its nose seemed dry, she took her canteen and poured it into a camping bowl she carried just in case. As it drank, Cecily took a moment to check and saw it was a girl.

“Well, little lady, what am I going to do with you?” Cecily realized she’d more or less decided that already. Reaching out, she picked her up, admiring the thick coat and too-big paws. She didn’t seem to mind being held, and Cecily brought her in against her chest.

“You remind me a lot of those sledding dogs. I wonder if you’re not just a wild one of those. A husky? I think that’s the name.” Cecily smiled as the pup yawned and snuggled in against her neck. “Oh my gosh! You are so cute! What am I gonna call you?”

Just then, the puppy reared it’s head back and belched directly in her face. The smell of dog breath and granola made her eyes water. Gasping a little, Cecily started across the clearing and headed back home to the castle. “Excuse you, by the way, Granola breath. Oh! Granola! That’s good.”

As Cecily made her way through the forest, Granola snuggled her snout against Cecily’s neck again and snored lightly.


	5. Magic, Unforbidden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cecily returns to the castle with a puppy but she can’t help but feel the way back home is easier than before.

Venturing into the Forest alone was dangerous for anyone, even without villainous vegetation and sentient spiders. Criminals were still running loose, from both kingdoms. The terrain also could prove deadly for the unwary. For every flower laden field there were treacherous ravines and shale covered hills where footing became tricky. Cecily knee much of the forest by now, having explored countless times with and without Sir Joan.

This solo trip was a return from the cabin she shared with Sir Joan near the waterfall. She wasn’t alone; she had her horse Atalanta and now a fluffy puppy she called Granola. “Alright, ladies, now we’re all going to work together.”

It had taken a bit of convincing for Atalanta to accept Granola. The middle aged horse could be quite set in her ways. An unfamiliar sight and scent made the stocky equine uneasy. For her part, Granola was cautiously curious about the large, hard-hoofed creature. She tended to sniff at Atalanta from a respectful distance. Cecily made a sling to carry the pup and hoisted them both atop her mount.

“Everyone comfortable? Okay, let’s head to the castle!” Cecily said, gently steering Atalanta into a brisk trot.  


Cecily zoned out, idly scratching at Granola’s ear or gently turning Atalanta toward the path and away from the stream she seemed intent on jumping into. It took a few moments for her to realize that they should have been away from the stream for quite some time.  
Checking her position, Cecily concluded they were heading the right way. Perhaps something diverted the stream and changed its flow, Cecily thought. She and Joan would have to map out its new course.

A few moments later, she spotted berry bushes along the path. They seemed nice and ripe, but their appearance triggered Cecily’s suspicion. She didn’t recall any berry bushes along the path between the cabin and the castle. She ignored the fresh scent of blackberries and got Atalanta to move more quickly.

Now away from the bushes, Cecily spotted red fruit at about eye level. She stopped Atalanta and stared. There definitely hadn’t been apple trees in the forest anywhere near here before. Pulling out her map and a compass, Cecily oriented herself again. Given the position of the mountain in the distance, she knew she had to be going the right way. Folding the map up, she shrugged. “Maybe I found a new path? One that just so happens to be going the same way…”

Granola nosed against her chin and licked her neck. Laughing, Cecily patted the pup and got Atalanta going again. The apple trees hung right over the path now, practically insisting on handing their fruits to Cecily. Her continued refusal only seemed to make the next branch more insistent until she was dodging red, fragrant fruit. When one finally hit her in the face she gave in and plucked it. Her acquiescence seemed to satisfy the trees and finally her view was unimpeded by apple branches.  


Taking out her knife, she set about peeling and citing her gift. In the back of her mind, her rational thought made the argument that it could all be coincidence. That the trees only seemed to be more insistent. That they only seemed to be satisfied after she accepted an apple. Just because a Forest was enchanted once didn’t mean…

A low growl caught Cecily’s attention. Granola barked and squirmed in her sling. Atalanta stopped unbidden. Looking up, Cecily slowly reached for her bow. On the path ahead, a bear lumbered. It didn’t seem to notice them, and Cecily spared a moment to quiet Granola to stop her from getting the bear’s attention. Which was when the bear’s two cubs tumbled out from behind their mother. Cecily stowed the bow and glanced around for a way to give mamma bear and her cubs a wider berth.

A deer trail seemed to appear as if from thin air. Cecily steered Atalanta down the narrower path. Sure footed as any deer, Atalanta slipped down the way quietly. Out of sight of the bear and her cubs, Cecily sighed in relief. It would have killed her to have to hurt a bear with cubs. But mamma bear also would have literally killed her if she’d even come close enough.

Just as she wondered if she’d have to cut across the underbrush, the trail rejoined the path later on past the bears. She heard a bear’s roar behind her, but that was all. Cecily shook her head and let go of the tension in her neck and shoulders. Mamma bear was probably just giving a cub a lecture.

In no time, she came to the edge of the woods. There was still plenty of sunshine and Cecily turned back to look at the forest. She’d taken the trip countless times and had never made such a short trip of it. Turning back around she got Atalanta going again. The horse could see home and Cecily hardly needed to encourage her more than that.

An eerie feeling made the back of her neck tingle and Cecily turned around again. When she looked, she couldn’t see the trail she’d just taken. Turning forward once more, she rubbed Granola’s head and muttered to herself, “I’ve really got to stop taking solo trips.”


	6. Linger Doubts, Overgrown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rupert returns to the former site of the King’s Hollow, to find an overgrown patch of weeds and tangled thorny bushes.

It was, perhaps, natural of me to want to return here. Even more natural that I would have worries before a big day like a wedding uniting two countries who’ve been enjoying an uneasy peace after years of war and countless atrocities and horrible bloodshed. Who wouldn’t be stressed, naturally? But here, in this place where two kings spent eighteen years as tangled angry tree people, I stand surrounded by nature. And I wonder, were those thorns always there?

In a shady spot off to one side, away from the dandelions and other perennials, is a patch of foreboding looking black bushes. It doesn’t blend in with the green scenery. The thorns themselves have flecks of color running through them. Red as blood. With how much has changed, it’s impossible to tell for sure, but my mind comes to the conclusion that this is where my father’s body lies.

As I approach the patch, I try not to remember the sight of him and Amir’s father getting sucked into the ground. Breaking the curse, it doomed them surely. But to what fate? Death? Or another form of life the forest found more suitable? Would the forest simply let them rest in peace? Would they even know how?

Too many questions and no answers as to what this bush even is. Natural or unnatural, the final resting place of two dead kings or a continuation of their cursed existences? I stop just short of being able to reach out to these evil looking thorns. There are scars in various places from the thorns I encountered in the maze before getting to the hollow.

A breeze picks up, sending a chill down my spine. In the rustling of the leaves I remember my father’s voice calling me to the forest. Calling my name. As inevitable as fate but yet as indiscernible as well. Prophecies could be misleading. My father certainly couldn’t have predicted that Amir and I would fulfill the prophecy in our own way.

I thought my father was killed by a bear. After meeting him, I wished he had been. The conniving, devious, bloodthirsty man couldn’t have been more different than me if he’d tried. Then again, if he’d tried to be a better person and set aside his greed and warmongering, he’d never have been turned into an evil tree. Amir had at least heard how his father had screwed up.

Wordlessly, Amir steps up beside me. At the sight of the bushes, he draws his sword and hacks at the thorns. The sap is blood red as well, and I pull him back as the vines regrow. Unnatural then. We’re both panting as we back away. But the bushes don’t overgrow their boundaries.

I’m shaking and I don’t realize it until Amir pulls me close to him. He’s shaken too, I can see it in his eyes. I reach for his arm and feel a wet warmth. He’s gotten a little scratch on his arm. My hand comes away with his blood on it and I fumble for a handkerchief on my belt as he pulls one out to stem the flow on his arm.

We don’t speak. Our eyes lock and it’s like I can see the thoughts in his head. Can we ever truly be rid of the influence of our fathers? They didn’t even raise us, but their legacy hangs over our heads. And now a thorny patch where they once stood is just there staining the scenery as they once stained the ground with blood.

Amir takes hold of my handkerchief and wipes at my face. I’m sweating, probably crying as well, my distress likely written all over my face. He smiled and shakes his head. He puts his fingers in his mouth and whistles. A sound of wings flapping fills the air and Porridge lands, facing the evil thorns.

Placing a hand on my chest, right over my heart, Amir leans in and kisses me. My hand hand comes up and I can feel his heartbeat under my palm. I feel the heat before I hear the blast as Porridge breathes fire onto the stubborn thorns.

I’m not my father. His legacy began in hatred and was ended by love. My love. Amir’s love. The thorns are the only things seemingly catching fire. Amir and I hold each other as the overgrown patch turns to ash. Whatever I have that once belonged to my father, I reclaim as my own. And not just mine but Amir’s as well. Our country, our forest, our legacy.

As I wake up in Amir’s arms, overwhelmed yet elated, I turn and snuggle in closer. Whatever doubts I had, these overgrown worries, they too could burn. And in the light of that fire, we’d have a brighter world.


	7. Letter to a Legend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joan writes a letter to her father, one she may never send.

Dear Father,

You were a legend. A war hero, the King’s Champion, who brought his mighty sword to bear upon evil foes. I grew up hearing tales of your exploits. Of all the contests you won before the war. Of all the battles you won during the war.

But that was a lie. The legacy you passed down is tainted. You served a deplorable king. Those contests were intended to insult and denigrate our rivals. Those battles were endless slaughterings, wasteful destruction of man and beast so great the earth itself rose to end the bloodshed. And your implosion brought on by mother’s death, only further serves to discredit you.

Wouldn’t an honorable man recognized the futility of the war? Couldn’t you have used your influence with you king to persuade him to seek peace? You fought to right wrongs and even scores that only became more wrong and uneven with each fight. But mother’s death was what it took for you to see that. And instead of changing your ways, you retreated into a bottle. You lost your power and position to your vices.

You would have lost so much more without me to carry your burden. To pick up your slack. But you never thanked me. Never complimented me. Never said you loved me. So I trained myself to earn your respect by becoming better than you. I taught myself the sword when no one else would. And I became Knight Champion, serving both royal families.

I’ve fought a forest, a knight captain and even a dragon. But the toughest battle I’ve fought is my love for you. The love that tried to make me less than what I could be. The “love” that would keep me in the stables or in the kitchen. Or bringing you another pint of beer.

I am more than you were, more than you are now and more than you ever will be. And whether that makes any difference to you, I don’t care. It makes a difference to me. Because I don’t need what passes for love from you. I have the true love of my fellow warriors. I have the respect of my Queens and Princes.

I hope you climb back out of the bottle you’re living in. You lost everything and yet you still find more to lose. You were a legend.

You were my first hero.

Sincerely,

Sir Joan, Knight Champion


End file.
